for a brass lamp of native manufacture that hung on a thin chain over the bed. The lamp, of Benaras metalwork, was wrought in the shape of a richly caparisoned elephant. Handling it gingerly with a handkerchief, he examined it closely with his lens. Finally, after about ten minutes, he let the lamp swing back over the bed, and hopped off the table.
'Ingenious. Sheer devilish ingenuity I should not have expected less…'He scrutinised the counterpane on the bed with his lens. 'Now logically there should be… Ah! Just as I expected.' With the aid of a small penknife he scraped away some brown particles from the cloth and held it up to the gas light for examination.
'It is definitely sealing-wax. Do you not think so, gentlemen?'
'Holmes,' Strickland cried impatiendy, 'is there a connection between all this and the dead man? Was the man murdered, and if so, how? And why the tremendous bleeding? I really think you might treat us with more frankness.'
'In all my experience I cannot recall a more singular and interesting study. My investigations are nearly complete, but I must verify a few more details before I can announce my results to you. I assure you, however, that I will only hold back the answers for the shortest possible period. In the meantime, I think you ought to know that our unfortunate dead man downstairs is a victim of both murder and accident.'
'You speak in paradoxes, Sir,' I interjected.
'You're making fools of us, Mr Holmes,' Strickland said angrily.
'Tut, tut, Mr Strickland. Thefirst sign of choler I have detected in you. Still, it is my own fault. I should have made it clear.'
'Clear, Mr Holmes? We do not even know who the dead man is.
'The dead man was a native servant of this hotel. He was without doubt murdered. But his death was an accident, in the sense that he unfortunately placed himself in a situation where the real victim should have been instead.'
'Then who was the murderer really after?'
'None other than myself, I should imagine.'
'You, Mr Holmes?'
'Oh, I must admit to a certain notoriety in criminal circles,' Holmes chuckled, 'but it's a long story and…'
A vague memory that had been bothering me for the last few minutes now suddenly sprang crystal-clear in my mind. 'The boat, Mr Holmes,' I cried.
'Well, what about it?' said Strickland irritably.
'The Kohinoor should have docked at least by midday, instead of which it could only do so late in the afternoon. If everything had gone according to schedule, Mr Holmes not only would have been in this hotel by the evening, but could have been in his room, maybe even this one, at the time of the incident.'
'And Mr Holmes would then have been the unfortunate victim instead of the other fellow?' asked Strickland.
'Possibly,' said Sherlock Holmes softly.'Only possibly. I assure you gentlemen, that I am not boasting of undue prescience when I say that I was anticipating an attack upon my person. I have had four such attempts made on me just this month, though I must admit that this particular one presents the most features of interest.'
'But the room,' Strickland exclaimed.'How could the murderer have known that…?'
At that moment a dour looking police officer in khaki drill walked into the room. He tugged at his ragged grey moustache worriedly as he spoke.
'The body's been taken down to the mortuary, Sir,' he said to Strickland in a strong Aberdonian accent. 'In all my years in the force I've never seen a bloodier mess than this. What could have caused such a horrible death?'
'It's anybody's guess, at the moment,' Strickland replied. 'But things should become a littie clearer once the body's properly examined. Who's on duty at the laboratory now?'
'Probably old Patterson, Sir.'
'Tell him I want the autopsy performed right away. I'll be down as soon as I finish questioning Mr Sigerson and his native guide here. Mr Sigerson ministered to the dying man and may have seen or heard something that could have bearing on the case.'
'Estrekeen' sahib could lie like a thief when he had to.
'Then would it be all right if the hotel people were to clean up the mess? We've gone over everything with a fine tooth comb, but haven't turned up a thing.'
'All right. If you're sure you haven't overlooked anything.'
'Nae, Sir. I'm pretty sure I haven't,' replied the inspector, and then chuckled. 'They're having an old boy's reunion dinner downstairs – the United Services College, I think – and the manager is in a fair dither, what with the blood on the staircase and all.' He walked over to the door adjusting his topee. 'I'll leave Havildar Dilla Ram and two boys here on duty.'
'Thank you, MacLeod. Good night.'
After the inspector had left the room Holmes raised his eyes to to the ceiling and sighed. 'So the official detective force of the city of Bombay functions in much the same manner as old Scodand Yard.'
'Look here, Mr Holmes,' said Strickland in an injured tone of voice. 'I admit that all of us are absolutely baffled by this mystery, and I am sure you're not. You have thrown out hints here and hints there but I think we have a right to ask you straight how much you know about the business.'
'My dear fellow, I did not at all mean to hurt your feelings. Just a few more details to be confirmed, after which I assure you, all will be revealed. Now, I want you to be there at that autopsy and note every detail carefully. I have no hesitation in saying that the results may be crucial to the solution of the case.'
'Well, Mr Holmes,' said Strickland, somewhat mollified, 'you have a deuced round-the-corner way of doing things, but I've put up with your reticence for so long, that I ought to be able to bear it a bit longer, I suppose.'
'Good man,' laughed Sherlock Holmes, clapping him on the shoulder. 'And, now, for one last thing, and this may be more in Mr Mookerjee's field of interest; where could one obtain some books dealing with the flora and fauna of this country?'
'Well, Sir,' I replied, somewhat puzzled by his unexpected request, 'the best place would be the library of the Bombay Natural History Society. I happen to know the Secretary, Mr Symington, quite well (I had demi-officially provided him with rare specimens of Tibetan primroses) and their library facilities are excellent. But I fear they will be closed now.'
'Ah well, then tomorrow must serve,' said Sherlock Holmes compliantiy. 'I expect you here, Mr Mookerjee, bright and early tomorrow, to take me there. Now let us proceed downstairs to arrange my accommodations and have a bite of supper.'
'You must be famished,' Strickland said ruefully.'I really should have…'
'Not at all, my dear fellow,' Mr Holmes interrupted, leading the way out of the room. 'It has been a most instructive evening. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Would you mind closing the door behind you? It would not do to let people know we have been snooping around here.'
The manager had lost no time in straightening things out, it seemed, for the hotel-sweepers were busy scrubbing the staircase. They had not yet got to the landing which was still awash with blood. Holmes stopped suddenly before descending the stairs and looked with a puzzled expression at the floor.
'Do you happen to notice anything peculiar about this blood?'
'Why, no,' said Strickland. 'There just seems to be a lot of it around. Why? Is there anything unusual?'
'Never mind,' Holmes replied, descending the staircase, but I overheard him muttering to himself,'Remarkable, most remarkable.'
We were crossing the lounge to the reception desk, when the manager hurried over to us. 'A thousand apologies, Mr Sigerson. I have been most remiss in my duties as a host. But this terrible accident and…'
'It's quite all right. I've spent a useful half hour working out the details of my proposed excursions in this city with my guide, Mr Mookerjee, here. Now if I could trouble you…'
'Most certainly, Sir.' Mr Carvallo!' He beckoned to the clerk at the reception desk. 'A room for the gentleman.'
Mr Carvallo, a plump sleek young gentleman, probably of Portuguese descent, reached under his desk for a key and then rang the desk-bell with a thump of his palm. A native porter in hotel livery shuffled up. He was given the
